


wait for the night, for the light at the end of an era

by jazzmckay



Category: RWBY
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzmckay/pseuds/jazzmckay
Summary: They’ve been here before—in each other’s arms, their lips moving against each other’s, pouring emotions into touches instead of words, because it used to be the easiest language between them. Both of them are different now, but they still fit like they always have.Qrow and James reflect on their relationship and get some much-needed rest.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	wait for the night, for the light at the end of an era

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [veilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veilder/pseuds/Veilder) for beta reading!

Exhaustion is a weight that makes the line of Qrow’s body drag, almost too heavy for him to keep upright. The past few hours have been a whirlwind, the continuation of a never-ending flurry that started with the fall of Beacon and does not have an end in sight.

Reaching Atlas is a relief, but they aren’t out of the storm.

He’s led to an apartment, separate from the dorms where Ruby, Yang, and the others will say amongst the students.

“Thanks,” he mutters, barely sparing the officer a glance as he’s shown inside. He’s grateful to have somewhere to get cleaned up and take time to rest, but doesn’t have the energy to show it.

It’s a testament to how tired he is that he doesn’t recognise where he is at first.

The apartment is large, probably one of the largest in the building, and it’s well furnished and stocked, more so than any guest or temporary residences would be. There’s the suggestion of the place being lived in—not a strong one, which is something he will remember once his brain catches up—with a shirt draped over the back of a chair and a mug sitting in the dishes strainer, dry enough to be put back in the cupboard.

“Wait,” Qrow says. “This is—”

He turns back, rushing for the door with some renewed vigor. The man who brought him here is at the end of the hall, just about to reach the elevator.

“Hey!”

The officer stops, turns to look at Qrow with his brow furrowed. “Is something the matter?” he calls down the hallway.

“Yeah, I think you took me to the wrong room.”

It has been an age since Qrow was last in James’ apartment. Not since the fall of Beacon, and even before that; his work for Ozpin kept him busy and far away, and James’ duty kept him equally busy and trapped in place. It has been long enough that Qrow isn’t sure he belongs in James’ private space.

“No,” the man says with a slight shake of his head. “General Ironwood was clear.”

He doesn’t wait for Qrow’s reply, just resumes his path through the elevator doors and is gone.

“Damnit.” Qrow steps back into the apartment, lingering in the entranceway. He’s at a loss, now, for how to conduct himself without James here with him. “Wish you coulda been clear with _ me_, Jim.”

He starts by leaning Harbinger against the back of the couch in the living room. Next, he removes his cape, but can’t decide where to put it.

The trouble is, he doesn’t know when to expect James to join him. If James could have spared the time, he would have just left with Qrow after their hug, but duty called.

And that hug—Qrow crosses his arms over his ribs, hands on his sides, chasing that feeling of being held. If time had frozen in that moment, Qrow would have settled within it for as long as he was able.

But time flows ever on, and it could be awhile before James shows up again.

Qrow goes to the bathroom and washes his face with cold water, freshening up with what little energy his has left, then returns to the living room and throws himself down on the couch, leaned up against one arm with his legs stretched out and hanging haphazardly over the side.

Too tired to hold out any longer, he slips into a light, uncomfortable sleep.

  
  
  


Qrow startles when one of his legs dips low enough that his foot meets with the floor, jolting his entire body. “What’s—”

Awareness floods back into his mind. They made it to Atlas, made it to James, they’re safer than they have been for a very long time—or maybe not, with the way this city has morphed since Beacon—and he’s in James’ apartment.

It’s still dark; only a couple hours have passed by his estimate.

With a groan, Qrow eases himself upright and looks around the room. Faint moonlight filters in through the windows and there’s the muted glow of electronics, but no lights on, and no James.

Qrow forces himself to his feet and pokes his head into every room of the apartment, searching, but finds himself as alone as he was when he fell asleep.

The general is either swamped with work, or he’s intentionally keeping his distance, despite all but admitting he missed Qrow as much as Qrow missed him.

The little bit of sleep he managed to get is energising enough that he’s prepared to be an insistent pain in James’ partially metal ass, if that’s what it’ll take to bring them back together. He’ll march straight down to James’ office, ignoring any asshole who tells him where he can and can’t go without permission or an escort, and figure out what James’ problem is.

He could even pester James by Scroll, now that they’re within Atlas’ bubble of open communication.

Qrow does exactly that. Taking his Scroll out of his pocket, he pulls up James’ contact, and waits.

Just when he thinks James is too busy or ignoring him, the call connects and the screen fills out with their cam feeds.

James gives him a considering look, tilting his head. Qrow is willing to bet he was expecting the call to be about an emergency, and is taking in the fact that Qrow is calling him calmly, from the safety of his apartment, not the least bit aggrieved. Yet.

“You’re sitting in the dark,” James says.

“And you’re sitting in your office. It’s the middle of the night, James.”

“I know, I know. There’s work to be done.”

Qrow understands that well. It has been one thing after another for months, and all of it feels like a matter of life or death. But there are bags under James’ eyes that speak to how he has fared under the weight of his responsibility and concerns for the future, worn thin and grinded down, eroding as the world of Remnant grows darker.

“Don’t care. Come up here and get some rest.”

“I can’t, Qrow.”

“Well, I can’t relax in your apartment alone, so we’re at an impasse.”

James frowns. “I hoped to give you a comfortable place to stay.”

“Kind of weird being here without you,” Qrow admits, not in the mood to be coy or guarded. “I passed out on the couch for a bit and thought you’d show up eventually.”

The tired lines of James’ face soften and his next blink is slow, like his eyelids have grown heavy. 

“I’m sorry. I can set you up somewhere else.”

That’s the last thing Qrow wants, right now.

“No, Jim,” he says, voice firm. “I’m staying here, you’re coming home, and we’re going to sleep. I’ll drag you up here if I have to, you know I will.”

Qrow can just barely see a small smile spread across James’ face and he knows he’s getting through the haze of exhaustion, paranoia, and strain James has been living in over the months.

“If you insist,” James says, voice a low rumble, almost intimate in its timbre.

“I do.”

“Less than five minutes. I’ll be there.”

“If not, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

They end the call and Qrow puts his Scroll back in his pocket.

Leaving Harbinger and his cape behind, he makes his way to the front door, posting up to wait.

A man of his word, James arrives only a few minutes later, form already relaxing the moment he crosses the threshold and joins Qrow in the quiet darkness of the apartment.

Qrow rests a hand on James’ bicep and greets him with a smile. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“If it were easy,” James says, leaning into the touch, “I would have just come with you in the first place.”

“What’s the hardest part, then? Stepping away from your double job, or having to be in my company?”

“Qrow.”

James’ tone is exasperated, admonishing. He doesn’t have to say anything else, because Qrow already knows what he would say. He knows what James has already said, and James rarely says things he doesn’t mean, at least not to Qrow. Even if he does, Qrow can tell when he’s holding back, when he’s lying.

Between the two of them, only Qrow is doing either of those things. But the mission is one thing, their relationship—whatever it is, after all these years and the changes life has thrown at them—is another.

Qrow reaches around James to push the door closed, then shoves him against it.

There’s a statement in the action, and Qrow waits for the reply, either an agreement or a rebuttal.

James takes hold of his hips, gloved hands grasping onto him.

The answer is clear and Qrow surges forward, slotting their bodies together and pressing his lips to James’.

Unlike their earlier reunion, neither of them is startled or unsure. They’ve been here before—in each other’s arms, their lips moving against each other’s, pouring emotions into touches instead of words, because it used to be the easiest language between them. Both of them are different now, but they still fit like they always have.

James’ right hand splays over the small of his back, holding him closer, and Qrow could just about melt. Ever since they pulled out of that hug, he has been aching to find his way back into it.

One step at a time. Returning to each other in measured beats. Finding their way home.

As Qrow draws back, James’ teeth drag along his bottom lip in a way that tempt him back in, but he manages to control himself. “Come on,” he murmurs.

James makes a soft, agreeing sound in the back of his throat and takes Qrow’s hand as they move out of the entranceway, going straight for the bedroom.

What Qrow said over their call—he meant it. They both need rest, and there will be time to take the next step of their reunion later. Now that he has James back, Qrow is going to resist ever letting go again.

He pushes his hands under the lapels of James’ greatcoat, easing it off his shoulders. Obligingly, James straightens his arms to allow the coat to fall away and tosses it onto a chair in the corner, forgotten. The bandolier comes off next, hung over the knob of the nightstand drawer, and the vest ends up on the floor, because once the full length of James’ tie is revealed, Qrow grabs onto it and pulls him down for another kiss.

Between them, James removes his gloves and Qrow hears them fall to the carpet before one flesh hand and one metal hand bracket his face, holding him like something precious.

“I missed you so much,” James whispers against Qrow’s lips.

“I know. I know, you too.”

“Everything has been so—”

Qrow captures his lips again so he doesn’t have to voice it, doesn’t have to admit he’s struggling, that he’s drowning. He kisses James slow and deep, swallowing his words as he pries the tie loose from around his neck.

When they part, James drops his hands to Qrow’s chest and undoes the topmost button of his shirt.

Metal fingertips brush along his skin and he shivers, but not just because of the cold.

“Sorry,” James says.

“Don’t be. It’s good. Been too damn long.”

James grins, fondness making him look a little less tired. He continues his path down to each button of Qrow’s shirt until it’s completely undone.

He stills when he notices the scar across Qrow’s ribs that wasn’t there the last time they saw each other undressed.

“What—”

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Was it bad?”

“Yeah. Aren’t they always?”

James swallows thickly and gives a small nod. “Alright. Tell me tomorrow.” He pushes the shirt completely off Qrow’s body and it joins the growing mess on the floor around them.

They undo James’ shirt together, Qrow starting at the hem and James starting at the collar. The rest happens in a rush, a mix of eagerness to see each other intimately and the desire to fall into the bed where they can let the coiled tension of their bodies unwind.

The metal half of James’ body is a welcome sight—it’s something so distinctly _ James_, and an indication of his strength and perseverance. Qrow runs his hand down James’ torso, feeling all the seams that piece the parts of him together under his palm.

James’ eyes slide shut, at ease, and Qrow will never tire of him being so open and trusting with a part of himself he hasn’t always found easy to be confident about. He knows Qrow not only doesn’t mind but can actually appreciate the metal half of him as much as the flesh half.

Hand over James’ sternum, Qrow pushes him back into the side of the bed, urging him down onto the mattress.

James goes without further prompting, slipping under the covers first and crossing to the opposite side. He pulls Qrow along with him.

They lie face to face, sharing a pillow and gazing into each other’s eyes through the darkness. It has been too long since they could be together like this.

“You’ve been sleeping like shit, haven’t you?” Qrow asks.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Qrow shifts closer and tangles their legs together as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through James’ beard. The motion has James going lax, eyes closing. It’s good to see him peaceful again, instead of stiff straight and pulled taut. It won’t last—tomorrow, he’ll have to go back to his jobs, back to the world, and to the storm of it all, but for now, Qrow thinks he might be relaxing for the first time in awhile.

“Thank you,” James mumbles, sounding half-asleep.

“For what?”

“Being here. Telling me to be here, too.”

Qrow moves his hand up to the curve of James’ jaw, brushing his thumb along the angle of his cheekbone. When he saw this face over a screen, through a video loop of a militant message, he’d feared what had become of James in the time they spent apart.

“You looked so worn down,” he whispers into the space between them. “You looked like you were being crushed under the weight of it all, like you hadn’t slept in a month. I wasn’t going to let that stand.”

James rests his arm—the metal one, heavier than the other, but he’s gentle with it, and it has never been too much for Qrow to bear—over Qrow’s waist, placing his hand to the small of Qrow’s back like he had while they kissed.

The prosthesis is cool against Qrow’s skin, but he knows from experience that it won’t be long before the synthetic pads of James’ palm and fingers begin to warm from Qrow’s body heat, as he typically runs hot enough for the both of them.

“It has been… difficult,” James admits.

An understatement. They have never faced something like they are facing now, and James doesn’t even know the extent of it, yet. “I know. Something will work out.”

Qrow doesn’t know how or when, but he has to believe it will happen. In the past while, he has realised how determined and capable his nieces and their friends are, and with the clarity of sobriety comes the understanding that there is still hope and good in the world.

James himself has always tried to be one of those forces, even when it’s a losing battle.

“For now, we make do,” Qrow adds. “And… maybe plan for the future we’re earning along the way.”

James’ eyelashes flutter as he meets Qrow’s eyes, and his expression is harder than usual for Qrow to decipher—carefully even, attentive but measured.

The future isn’t something they’ve ever talked about. Their lives are busy and dangerous and they’re apart so often, and when this first started between them, Qrow had been an alcoholic with trouble opening up and James’ had been a soldier through and through, applying himself fully to his roles for the betterment of Atlas. They’d always cared, always trusted, but could justify pushing it no further than that, settling for trysts whenever Qrow had time to be where he pleased or James’ work took him to a kingdom Qrow happened to be in at the time.

Qrow doesn’t know what James wants, not with complete certainty, but he knows his own desire and what he’s willing to put on the line for it. The two of them have something. Have each other. With everything that has changed and all the ways their lives are on the brink with every day they continue to fight, Qrow wants to commit while he has the chance, wants to grasp on to what they mean to each other and hold on tight.

Inching closer, James kisses Qrow’s brow, his cheek, his lips. “That sounds like a good plan.”

One of the best plans they’ve got right now, Qrow thinks privately.

“You’re damn right it does,” he jokes. It has the desired effect of making James grin and loosening the air around them into something less heavy, less serious. “We’ll figure it out, after we’ve slept.”

James nods against the pillow and closes his eyes again as Qrow wraps his arm fully around him, both holding each other close and safe. The room goes quiet save for the faint sound of their breathing and the occasional slide of the bedsheets when either of them shifts.

Qrow is on the verge of falling asleep, when he hears James’ voice again.

“I’m glad you’re here. More glad than I’ve ever been for anything in my entire life.”

Chest tight with emotion and throat threatening to close up, Qrow works to keep his breath level and his body at rest, assuming James expects he’s already asleep.

They needed this, both of them. They could have had it sooner, but maybe it happened at exactly the right time, when it could be this easy, this bolstering, like coming home—not to a place, but a person.

Sleep takes him not long after and the last thing he’s aware of is James’ hand on his back and warm presence beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3


End file.
